Trips and Carnivals
by Alcarcalime
Summary: Harry and Ginny Potter take a trip to Brazil to celebrate their wedding anniversary, and Ginny wants Harry dead. Written for HG Ficafest's 4th Wave of Challenges.


**Trips and Carnivals**

"Where is that git?" I muttered under my breath as I searched the thousands of heads that surrounded me. I'd been standing here in front of the same coffee shop in the middle of some busy street I didn't know, looking for my husband who had wandered off to Merlin knew where—in Rio de Janeiro, no less!

One minute he was beside me watching the carnival, and the next minute he was gone. I believed I heard him saying something about a drink, but an hour and a half had passed and I still hadn't seen a hide or hair of him. If I weren't in the Muggle part of Brazil, I'd Summon that prat and hex his sorry arse to next week.

This vacation was his idea to celebrate our sixth year wedding anniversary "without the interruptions of our lovely daughter who apparently inherited her mother's genes." (His words, not mine.) He loved his daughter dearly but lately, Lily had always been foiling her father's attempts on enjoying his privileges of being a married man. I couldn't say that I wasn't annoyed as well, but seeing the look on Harry's and Lily's faces was so amusing that I always forgot that my sexual needs were not met. Would you stay mad if your four-year-old daughter went into your room with this extremely adorable face like she was about to cry because the dust bunnies were scaring her? And then Harry always made this face, which looked like a cross between wanting to scold Lily and drag her back to her room and comforting his daughter and lull her back to sleep. I'd scoop Lily to my arms, and she'd settle in between us until she fell asleep, hugging either me or Harry real tight for the rest of the night. And the bloody git blamed me for having a mischievous daughter, who didn't want Mum and Dad to play and have fun.

That was why we flew halfway across the world to have a week of uninterrupted shags. But bloody hell, we'd been here for almost twelve hours and the only bed action I'd had was hearing my husband snore as we caught a few hours of sleep. Then we decided to check out the carnival before calling it a night.

At first I thought that we couldn't have timed our vacation more perfectly than this because we arrived at the start of the carnival season. I'd wanted to see the Brazilian Carnival ever since Hermione and I saw this program about Brazil one afternoon while we were watching over our daughters on the Muggle telly she charmed. So when Harry suggested that we take a trip on our anniversary, I told him, without hesitation, that we should go to Brazil.

But after an hour of watching hundreds of almost-naked women in colourful and elaborate bikinis and feathered headdresses that made them look like a peacocks, I didn't think it was such a great idea at all. It didn't help matters that _all_ of the Samba dancers were _absolutely_ gorgeous, and I could tell that my husband's perverted eyes were popping out of their sockets. Even if Patricia Mackenzie was the prettiest student in my year at Hogwarts, she wouldn't match up to any of these girls.

And now Harry was missing. The pervert.

If I didn't know any better, he took off so he could ogle at the girls in peace. I bet he was wishing that he went here with Ron and the rest of those horny gits instead. I went to look for him when he didn't come back after a few minutes, and I had been now wandering around the streets of Rio de Janeiro and I still couldn't find him. Where in Merlin's name did he go?

Urgh. This is hopeless. There was no way I could find him in this crowd. I sighed. I'd just go back to the hotel; the problem was how?

"Excuse me," I asked the woman standing beside me. The woman turned around and gave me a warm smile. "Do you know how can I get back to the Copacabana Palace?"

"Copacabana?"

I nodded. "Yes, my husband and I got separated and I don't know my way back to the hotel."

"Ah, tá vendo aquela rua? Você vira ali, depois—" the woman began but everything that she had said sounded like Gobbledegook to me.

Oh, bugger. Brazilians _speak_ Portuguese, how could I forget? And Harry had our travel guide!

I tried my luck with the woman I was talking to and asked her if she could speak in English, but she shook her head and said something. I just looked at her, forehead knotted, clueless about what she was saying. I smiled politely and thanked her.

If only I could just find an empty corner, I'd Apparate back to our hotel room and plot my revenge against my doting husband; but it was impossible. Every corner was filled with people. I sighed. I had no other choice.

I started asking random people I met on how I could get back to the Copacabana Palace. I was lucky that the fourth person I talked to could speak English and she was kind enough to write down the directions on a piece of weird scrap parchment we found. I thanked her and went on my way.

I was near the Copacabana when I saw a bloke, whose dark hair was sticking up at the back of his head, posing for pictures with a tall, curvy, blonde woman for a group of teenagers. Oh, great, I found my wonderful husband. He had his back on me but I was positive that was he. And _he_ had _his_ arms all around that woman, like how he lovingly held his Firebolt.

I _am_ going to kill Harry Potter.

That picture-taking session lasted longer than I had wanted. Those teenagers—at first they were just three but more kept popping up—alternately took pictures with Harry and that sodding woman. And that prat didn't let go of that hag: he even held her closer! I was watching where his bloody hands were going; if it wandered down to the danger zone even for a second, I'd hex him that instant, Muggle Brazil or not.

After what seemed like ten, bleeding years, the teenagers left and that banshee went to talk to some person I didn't know. Good. Now it was time for me to strike.

"There you are," I whispered in his ears as I wrapped my hands around his waist. "You and me in bed; clothes optional. What do you—?"

I wasn't able to finish what I was saying because _Harry_ turned around and I found myself staring up to a pair of confused brown eyes instead of shining green ones.

_Bloody hell._

Can I die _now_?

My hands fell limp. I felt my blood raced up to my cheeks in lightning speed; I knew I was red all over. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I thought you were my husband. I am so, so sorry."

I'd totally understand if he'd run away and call me a crazy woman. I am, after all, one. But to my surprise, the bloke smiled. "It's okay. You're on your honeymoon?"

I smiled back, my cheeks heating up once more. "Sort of. More like second honeymoon. But I don't know where my husband went to."

"Why?"

"We were watching the carnival and got separated. I thought you were my husband. I'm really, really sorry."

At that same moment, the blonde woman came back and held his hands. "Let's go?"

He nodded at his companion, turned to me, and smiled before walking away.

I buried my face on my hands. That was absolutely embarrassing. _Oh, curse you, Potter! If you weren't such a bloody pervert and didn't go after those samba dancers, this wouldn't happen! You are so dead, Harry._

When I was sure that my cheeks were back to its normal colour, I rushed towards the Copacabana. I didn't think I'd fancy having another run-in with that bloke; I didn't think I had the courage to face him again. I was already at the hotel lobby when I heard someone calling my name, _insistently_.

"Ginny! Wait up!"

I turned around, and there was Harry, running towards me. This time I was positive it was he. No mistaking it. I crossed my arms in front of me and wore my best put out face.

"Where have you been?" Harry asked the second he caught up with me.

_Where have_ I _been?_ He's _asking_ me _where have I been? The nerve!_

"Where have _you_ been?" I threw back his question.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I didn't go anywhere. I bought us drinks but you were already gone when I came back."

"Gone? I was just standing there! And you didn't come back that's why I looked around for you."

"You looked for me?"

"Yes!" I said, irritated. When did Harry's comprehension become this slow? "Did you expect me to just stand there while you ran of with those Samba—?"

"You didn't get my message then?" he said, interrupting me.

"Message? What message?"

Instead of answering, Harry smirked. "You didn't get it."

I arched my eyebrows up. What was he talking about? Without explaining what he meant, he took my hand and led me to an empty corner, and without a warning, I felt the familiar sensation of being tugged in all directions.

I found myself in the middle of a deserted beach the moment I opened my eyes. It was beautiful. The stars were reflected in the water that made them look like tiny crystals sparkling on the surface of the dark, velvet sea. And even in the faint moonlight, I could see how clear and beautiful the water was. I turned to Harry, and the git was smiling broadly. "Where are we?"

"This is my message," Harry said as he led me towards the little cottage at the end of the beach. "One of the Samba dancers should give you a piece of paper—your Portkey to get here."

"But why did you have to leave? We could have just gone together."

"Because I had to make sure that everything's settled," he replied as we climbed up the porch. "Remember Mariana Ferreira, the Brazilian Auror we met last year? She helped me arrange this." He gestured at the beach and the cottage. "This is ours for the week."

"But the hotel—?"

"I already took care of it. We want no interruptions, right?" He wrapped his arms around me, and we just stood there for a while, listening to the waves crashing on the shore. It was serene, peaceful.

"I thought you ran off with the Samba dancers, you know," I said, glancing up at him. "You were ogling at them so I thought—"

"I left you to have a good wank with the dancers?" he said, his eyes lighting up with amusement.

I nodded. "Yes, because we've been here for how long and I still have all of my clothes on. And I didn't bring much, you know."

Harry smirked and pulled me tighter. "How about I take them off now and let's see how sturdy the bed is? What do you say?"

I leaned forward until our lips were almost touching before I whispered, "Perfect."

The next thing I felt was the simultaneous sensations of our lips meeting in a fierce kiss, Disapparating, and getting pushed down on the fluffy bed. This was not a bad vacation after all.

_A/N: Lots of love and kisses to JennaMae for the beta and to Mariana for being my official Brazilian guide. This is for you, dear. :) Thanks also to Galena Listova for helping me with this one._

_Ten house points to the person who can guess who's the celebrity who made a cameo in this fic. ;)_


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